In Derek, I Trust
by nearraaa
Summary: There's trouble brewing in Beacon Hills. BIG trouble. Involving evil shifters, alternate dimensions, and lots of drama. But through it all, will a new romance blossom? Derek has to learn he can't do everything, and Stiles has to realize he IS important. Can they help each other? (I apologize, summaries aren't my thing, but I swear I'm a decent writer!). Sterek. Eventual smuttiness.


**I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its affiliates, or even anything remotely related to it except the computer I watch it on.**

**I just thoroughly enjoy Sterek.**

**Also, in my mind this is taking place after Season 2, sans Alpha Pack. As long as you read this, forget they even exist. It'll be easier that way. Meaning Erica and Boyd are present and unscarred. Also, Jackson's still in town. **_**Also**_**, nothing plot-wise that happens in Season 3 connects to this story whatsoever, though I will be borrowing stuff like Derek's apartment. Thank you for reading!**

**Enjoy! And feel free to review!**

"What's your favorite color?" Stiles had lost count of how many times he'd asked that question now. But the grump sitting across from him wouldn't give in.

"Would you just _shut up_?" Derek growled, his eyes flashing red. That was the only source of illumination in wherever the hell they were. All Stiles knew was that it was somewhere cold, dark, damp, and outside. Every now and again he heard the scuttle or brush of something else. Well, a _lot_ of something elses. Stiles could only imagine how many creepy-crawlies were hiding in the dark here.

He shuddered violently at the thought. He'd been desperately trying to focus on something else. _Anything_ else. Hence the conversation at hand.

"_Derek!_" Stiles begged. "It's not that complicated of a question! Just humor me!"

"It's a stupid question. And it's not gonna help us get out of here, either."

"In case you didn't notice, _nothing's_ gonna help us get out of here." Unfortunately, it was extremely true. They'd blindly searched around the stone walls for hours, looking for some way out of what Stiles chose to refer to as a cave. Though caves usually had openings, and as far as they'd seen, this one was completely sealed. In fact, Stiles had no idea how they'd even gotten in.

Stiles tried again. "Please, _please_, I need something to focus on. I don't know if you've ever noticed, but I have a bit of an attention-slash-hyperactive problem."

"Oh, a bit?" Derek chuckled. Stiles gasped audibly, and Derek rushed to his side to check him over. The boy was annoying, sure, but he was pack, and he wouldn't be hurt on Derek's watch. "What?! What is it? What hurts?"

"N-nothing!" Stiles wheezed, and Derek finally realized the pants for what they were—laughter. Was Stiles laughing at him?

"Just what's so funny?" Derek demanded.

"It's…it's not really…that funny!" Stiles gasped, starting to catch his breath. He calmed himself, clutching his now aching sides, and letting out one last breathy laugh before saying, "I've just never heard you chuckle before. And this is a really _weird_ setting for it."

Derek rolled his eyes, letting them flash red again so Stiles could see his exasperation. "This is also a really _weird_ setting for you to go off the rails."

"Considering the situation, not really," Stiles pointed out. "Though, I've made it through worse." The two sat in silence again for a minute, before Stiles decided to try his luck. "So, hey, Derek-"

"If you ask me what my favorite color is _one more time_, I will use this opportunity to rip out your throat, and then tell everyone else it was temporary insanity from being trapped with you. They've met you, trust me, they'll understand."

"A little wounded," Stiles admitted. "But, I'll get over it. You will always be a Sourwolf."

"I _hate_ when you say that."

"You do, huh? Good! We're getting to know each other?"

"Is that what you think the point of this is?" Derek had started to growl again.

"Maybe not," Stiles sighed. "But we could at least _do_ something while we wait. I think we both know I have this need to keep talking, so we either get to know each other, or we go over, _once again_, how we got here."

"I like Door Number Two," Derek said.

This time, Stiles heaved a sigh to end all sighs. And it kept going until Derek clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" Derek asked. "Because right now, I'm pretty upset. And I could easily take out all of my anger on you. So if you want to come out of this looking _somewhat_ like you did before, I suggest you shut the hell up."

Stiles shoved the hand away. He knew the older man enough by now to know that Derek would never really hurt him. Well, he hoped, and past experiences seemed to support his theory, though he wasn't sure there wouldn't _eventually_ come a day where he literally talked so much that Derek actually carried through with one of his threats.

The problem was they'd been through "Door Number Two" a bazillion times already. The story started a week ago, when Derek and Isaac had been unable to leave their apartment, because someone had surrounded the building with mountain ash. In a rage, he'd called Stiles, ordering him to come break the line, believing it was some kind of practical joke.

Stiles, however, had not found it funny at all. He hadn't had anything to do with the trail. Though it'd been a struggle to convince Derek of that at first, the event had settled like a blanket of unease over the entire pack. That blanket had started to suffocate them when Scott came home the next day to find a mass of wolfsbane lying on his bed, wrapped up like a bouquet.

But Erica had caught the worst. In her rush to get to school three days later, she hadn't even noticed the new addition to her porch until she was tripping over it. As she told the pack later, she couldn't do anything but scream in terror at the sight of the dog. Its throat had been slit before it was left to bleed out beneath her front door. Eventually, her throat had grown sore enough for her to stop, and when she did, the collar had caught her eye. She'd looked at the tag and realized that the dog had been named Erica.

Suffice to say, everyone had been on red-alert mode. Allison had taken to hiding a dagger on her at all times. Scott, Jackson, and Isaac were constantly fighting the need to shift so they could stay safe, and it was even worse for Erica and Boyd, without any anchors. Derek had taken to constantly staying in a half-shifted state, unless he had to interact with anyone outside the pack. Even Lydia had been forgetting to pretend she was dumb in her worry.

But Stiles…well, he didn't like knives. And he'd never pretended to be dumb. And he didn't have any wolfy abilities. So his best defense was a pocket full of Adderall. And a few more snarky comments than usual.

Neither of which had had a very large effect when he was grabbed the night before. Stiles remembered being terrified, though he was used to that. He also remembered his hands being bound and a hood tightened around his neck, leaving him utterly blind and defenseless. There'd been the sickening feeling of his feet unexpectedly leaving the earth as he was hauled into the back of a vehicle, where he'd landed on a large, muscled figure. He barely had the time to realize it was Derek before he was struck in the back of the head and knocked unconscious. Later, he'd found out that Derek had been disarmed by powdered wolfsbane.

_Or was it earlier?_, Stiles wondered, unsure whether he should be thinking in relation to the past or the present.

He refocused on the Alpha next to him, nudging him slightly. "Dude, if you make me go through those traumatizing memories again, then _I'll_ rip _your_ throat out."

That elicited another one of Derek's laughs, and Stiles found himself enjoying that he was the first person, at least as far as he'd seen, to make the grump laugh.

"Fine, fine!" Derek relented. We can…get to know each other."

"Thank God!" Stiles exclaimed. "What's your favorite color?"

"You _really_ have to start with that one?"

"Alright! What's your favorite growl?"

"Whichever one will get you to shut up."

Stiles tutted. "Now that's not very productive, is it?"

"Blue," Derek groaned. "My favorite color is blue." Not that he would _ever_ tell Stiles it was because it brought his eyes out. Derek had an extremely embarrassing affinity for his own eyes. _Only embarrassing if people know about it_, Derek pointed out. And he would make sure no one did.

"There we go! Mine's red. Okay, your turn?" Stiles prodded.

"Really? Red? After all the blood you see?" Derek was genuinely surprised. Red had always meant danger to him.

"I mean…yeah, blood is red. But, so are hearts," Stiles pointed out. "And there's not anything bad about them. _Plus_, red is proven to make you more attractive."

"Stiles, how do you know things like that?"

"I look them up."

"But…why?"

"I dunno…" Stiles paused. "I guess I just get bored. And a bored teenager spending his Friday night alone sorta adds up to trying to _not_ be bored and alone next Friday. And the best way to do that is a date. And the best way to do _that_ is to be more attractive, right?"

"You don't like being alone?" The way Derek said it, it was almost a statement. But something in his voice made it sound more like a question to Stiles.

"Who does?" Stiles stopped, and then backtracked. "Sorry, I forgot I was talking to Sourwolf." He waited for one of Derek's threats, or a growl, or something to try and dissuade Stiles from ever using that nickname again. Instead came a low, hushed whisper.

"I don't like it, either." The way Derek had said it, Stiles wasn't even sure if he'd been meant to hear it.

Stiles wasn't sure what to do. With Scott, he would've laid a hand on his arm, or knee, or something, remind him that he _wasn't_, in fact, alone. But even if Derek was a big ol' softie at heart, he was a big ol' softie who could easily rip Stiles apart if he took it the wrong way.

_Oh, whatever_, Stiles thought to himself. _The worst he could really do is bat it away_. And so he stretched out one of his hands, patting Derek's leg reassuringly before letting his hand rest there.

Derek didn't move him away.

After a while, Stiles ventured further, hoping he wasn't overstepping. "Um…if you don't like it…how come you're so mean and gruff all the time?"

He felt more than saw Derek turn to him. It was still too dark for him to see much at all, much less the movements of the Alpha.

Stiles gulped. This was it. He'd finally talked too much. Derek was actually gonna bite his throat out, or punch a hole through his chest, or—

"I just…it's easier. I'm not very good with words…or relationships," Derek admitted. His voice had risen in volume, but only just. There was a sort of sadness hanging from his words, and Stiles felt the need to pat his leg again.

"Why are you doing that?" Derek demanded. He was back to his usual bark, but it was missing his usual bite.

"I'm just trying to comfort you…" Stiles tried. Derek flew to his feet and roared in his face, the suddenness of his movements and the scarlet color his eyes had become sent Stiles scrambling away.

"I'm the _Alpha!_" Derek roared, snapping his fangs. "I'm not weak! I don't need comforting!"

_I have a death wish_, Stiles thought. Even as he moved closer to Derek, he berated himself. _I am a sick, twisted masochist, and I'm totally gonna get myself killed, and it's gonna be violent and gory and gross, and it'll probably hurt. A lot. And yet here I go, because I HAVE A DEATH WISH._

Stiles ignored Derek's half-wolf form and laid a hand on the bigger man's shoulder. "I didn't say you were weak, Derek." He took in a slow, shaky breath. "But it's okay to want some help."

"I don't need help," Derek growled, batting Stiles' hand away. Though the younger boy noticed he'd started to revert to a human state. "I am the Alpha. I protect the pack. Not the other way around."

"The Alpha can't do everything. And he shouldn't have to."

"Just stop, Stiles."

"Okay, okay!" Stiles realized he was really pushing his luck at the moment. More than ever before, he was sure. "We can just…go to favorite foods."

"I don't want to talk anymore."

"Oh, good! You two are already fighting! That makes this whole thing easier!"

Both of them froze. The voice had not come from either of them, but above. Stiles glanced up just as a torch was ignited, illuminating the features of a man wearing a cape of fur. Stiles noticed with distaste it was the only thing he wore.

His eyes were a piercing blue, much like Derek's. But even from his position beneath them, Stiles could tell that the man's were full of malice and ice cold, while the worst Derek had ever achieved was pissed off. He'd never looked…_murderous_.

Stiles couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through him and forced himself to look away from the man.

By this point, Derek had instinctively stepped between Stiles and the man and dropped into a half-crouch to protect the boy. Stiles felt slightly emasculated, but decided that he would get over it if he got out of this alive.

"Cute," the man remarked, causing Derek to snap his fangs again. His claws shot out as he roared at the man above him. The stranger ignored him, turning to unseen companions. "Get them out."

Two men stepped next to the first. Stiles gulped. They were bigger than Derek, and that was saying something, and also as scarcely clothed as the man holding the torch. Nothing about this seemed okay.

Especially once the men started twisting into giant anacondas, as thick around as a tree trunk, and terrifyingly long. Stiles wasn't an even sure there _was_ an end to their scaly bodies. He was acutely aware of their descent into what Stiles had previously thought of as a cave. Only now did he realize that he and Derek had searched for hours for a way out, and all they'd had to do was look up.

Stiles couldn't help but scream as one of the snakes wrapped itself around him. He wasn't crushed, though. Rather, he was lifted up and out of the pit. He watched as Derek followed him, trapped by the other snake. The Alpha was furiously fighting to wrench himself out of the reptile's grasp. He'd wolfed out, as well, and was doing his best to tear at the scales. Even Stiles could see that his fangs weren't doing much but irritate his captor.

The first man walked up to Derek, examining the hair that had sprouted on his face, along with his large canines and eyes. Stiles knew that, pinned to his friend's sides were his claws, as well.

"We don't bother with half-shifts, ourselves," the man remarked. He set the torch on the ground, where it began to splutter desperately, searching for more fuel.

Stiles watched in disgusted fascination as the man before him changed completely, morphing into something huge and terrifying. Stiles couldn't imagine the pain behind the shift, but he could clearly see bones snapping themselves before expanding and rearranging themselves beneath the man's skin. He fought the urge to vomit.

The man fell forward onto all fours as he exploded into a huge wolf, something like what Peter had once been. What Derek might one day become.

"Too bad you'll never learn." Stiles gaped. The wolf's mouth had moved, but the man's voice had spoken. That…that just wasn't possible. And Stiles had seen a lot of impossible things.

The huge wolf turned to the snakes and curled his muzzle into what must've been his version of a grin. "Take them to the Arena."

The torch finally succumbed to its lack of something to burn, and Stiles was plunged into darkness, caught in the grips of a giant snake, and headed towards what he could only assume was danger.

_At least some things always stay the same_, Stiles thought sourly.


End file.
